


Merry Hanukkah, Mr. Pines

by WillowLong



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Christian Holidays, Christmas, Cutting, Depression, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Jewish Holidays, M/M, Sad, Shame, Sibling Incest, Substance Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, Vomiting, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 08:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8971885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowLong/pseuds/WillowLong
Summary: Stan told Soos he could spend his Christmas day with him, if he wanted to. Stan forgot he told him that and instead spent his entire night with a couple bottles of cheap whiskey and a lifetime of bad memories.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing I took too much time on. Just never did a holiday fic and figured a couple hours would be alright to break away from all of the porn and cute shit. Warnings for vomit. Like...a lot.

Christmas Day, 2003. Sixth night of Hanukkah.

 

Snow drifted through the woods of Gravity Falls, Oregon. To most in the town it was beautiful. The perfect scene to go with a perfect Christmas Eve with their families. Children eager to get to sleep so Santa will be sure to visit while mothers and fathers huddled together next to the fire, watching the fat flakes glittering in the sky and coating the ground. 

 

Soos Ramirez loved looking out of his small bedroom window and watching the snow flying past the moon. He knew Santa wasn’t going to be able to stop at his house and that was ok. He used to write to Santa asking him to bring his dad home with him in his sleigh but he’d accepted that he wasn’t coming back. Now he didn’t really want anything that he didn’t already have. Not since Mr. Pines had given him a job at the Mystery Shack as his handy man. Honestly he had no idea how to fix anything but Mr. Pines was teaching him. Well, he waited until he tried and yelled at him but then he showed him how to fix it. He wondered what Mr. Pines was doing tonight. He knew he didn’t celebrate Christmas. He had something with candles and pancakes but Soos hadn’t seen any of the stuff they taught him about in school at his house. Maybe he was hiding it so he could do his cool holiday stuff somewhere else. Yeah, that had to be it. He’d have to ask him tomorrow. Even though he knew the Shack was closed Stan had told him to come over if he wanted. Abuelita was going to pick up some extra hours at work so he was going to go see Mr. Pines. 

  
  


Stanley Pines sat alone in his living room, still fully dressed in his Mr. Mystery suit with a bottle of cheap whiskey in one hand and a cigarette dangling limply in his other. He’d spent the day carting around idiot families who decided they needed to spend their holiday break wandering through the shit hole he called a Mystery Museum. At least they had spent money and that’s all he gave a damn about. He hates seeing their faces. Their disgusting, happily smiling faces. Why the hell were they happy? What could they possibly have to be happy about in the middle of the freezing cold, staring at shoddy taxidermy cryptids and corn sculptures. Fucking dumbasses. 

 

He glanced at the small calendar he kept in the living room. It was the fifth night of Hanukkah. Like he gave a fuck. Nothing but a time to spend money and give praise to some fake-ass god. If God were real he wouldn’t be sitting here alone. If God were real he’d be sitting here with Ford. Warm and happy. They still probably wouldn’t celebrate but at least he’d have someone to celebrate with if they wanted to. He remembered those nights when he was a kid, staying up all night playing with each other’s gifts. Passing out together on one of their bunks only to get up a few hours later and do it again. He remember not so happy holidays spent on his knees in dark alleys so he could sleep somewhere warm. Of holidays spent in Columban jails where he was just another pretty face in a sea of violent drug mules like himself. Of one particular Christmas eve bleeding out on the bathroom floor of a dirty bar in Texas after trying his best to slit his wrists with a piece of a shattered mirror, only to wake up the next morning to find someone had wrapped his arms and tossed him out of the back door. 

 

His throat tightened and he growled at himself, pushing the memories down deep, deep and unreachable like they should be. He deserved the shitty memories but he didn’t deserve the happy ones and they tended to come hand in hand. Downing the rest of his bottle, he went in the kitchen to grab another. He’d given up on using a glass three hours ago when he dropped it on the carpet and wasted an entire cup of the bottom shelf bourbon. Luckily he had plenty extra.

  
  


“Abuelita? Can you give me a ride to the Shack? Mr. Pines said I could go over if I wanted.” Soos was already pulling on his boots and grabbing a little Ziplock baggie full of his grandmother’s sugar cookies. Mr. Pines would really like them and they had plenty to share. 

 

“Of course, mehoe. Are you sure it’s ok with Mr. Pines? It is Christmas. He might be with his family.” 

 

Soos thought about that for a second before he answered, “I’m sure.”

  
  
  


‘ _ What is that banging? I didn’t leave did I? The cops?’  _ The banging didn’t let up. 

 

“Ughhh fu- *hick* -uck me.” He recognized the sound of knocking after a few more moments before he stood. Well, before he tried to stand. The bottle in his hand was nearly empty, blurring when he brought it to his face and twirled the contents. He finally made it to his feet without the world spinning sideways and stumbled his way through the kitchen, nearly falling over before he caught himself on the counter and swung open the door.

 

“H’llo, welc’mm to the Mys-*hick* Mystery Shack.” He stared at the face in front of him and felt a surge of joy giving way to confusion. “Soos? Wait, wha-*hick* why’er  you here? What day s’it?” He knew he had drank a little but did he really miss a day? Maybe a bottle and a half of 80 proof swile he was calling booze was a bit much. Ha. Who was he kidding? Nothing was ever going to be enough. 

 

“It’s uh, it’s Christmas Mr. Pines. You said I could come over. I brought you some cookies.” Soos held out the baggie and Stan reached out for it, his hand passing right by. After another attempt he snagged the bag and teetered sideways before grasping Soos’s shoulder, steadying himself as the young boy came in, shutting the door behind him. 

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.” Stan grabbed the bottle from where he had set it on the table and took another long pull. “So, wha’time is it? Why aren’t ya home with, with your fam-*hick* family?” His stomach twisted and he closed his eyes against the wave of dizziness and gripped the side of the table. 

 

“It’s almost noon. My family doesn’t really get together for the holidays. My abuelita was going to work and I didn’t really want to stay at home and you’re like, my second home so I came here.” Soos smiled at Stan, face full of unabashed affection for the crabby man. He knew he wasn’t as mean as everyone thought he was. He was just weird. 

 

“Holy, *hick* ughh. Noon?” He whipped his head round to stare at the digital clock on the oven. The world seemed to swirl around him and his stomach clenched in on itself again. He could taste the burn of whiskey in the back of his throat and swallowed it back down before slowly turning back to the young teen who was staring at him like he was the goddamn queen of England. 

 

“Yeah. So, do you want to go watch some Christmas movies? Umm, Mr. Pines? Are you ok? Your face is really pale.” Soos took a step toward Stan.

 

“Yeah, kid. I’m fi-” He didn’t have the chance to finish his thought before he was turning on his heels and throwing his body at the sink, thanking whatever god was there that he had been that close to it. Vomit splattered against the metal of the basin, almost completely consisting of the bottles he had downed through the night and the small amount of food he had managed to convince himself to eat. His body shook as his knuckles turned white from the vice-grip he had on the counter’s edge as he heaved again, coughing from the lack of air as his stomach continuously convulsed. 

 

Soos stood in horror as his boss puked into his kitchen sink, frozen in place, torn by whether or not he should go and help or stand as still as possible. 

 

“Ughh, that’s fucking gross.” Stan turned on the water and used his hand to wash away the whiskey and bile from his kitchen sink, ignoring the puke dripping down his chin and onto his shirt and suit jacket. Tears streamed down his face from the effort of holding himself upright and the stomach acid leaking through his nose. He coughed and spit on last time before smearing the mess on his face across the sleeve of his black suit. 

 

“M-Mr. Pines?” Soos took a chance and walked over to the sink, placing a hand on Stan’s back. Shit, he forgot the kid was here. Grabbing at the bottle again he turned to face his young handy-man. 

 

“Hey, kid. I’m s-*hick* sorry ‘bout that. Gettin’ old sucks, heh?” He drained the last of the bottle before fighting off the urge to throw up again and rubbed a large hand through Soos’s hair. 

 

“You’re-you’re sure you’re ok?” 

 

“Yeah, Soos. I’m fine now.” He really needed to go sit down before the entire world tilted on it’s side. Shaking, he grabbed another bottle from the top of the fridge, twisting it open and staggered back to where Soos was waiting in the doorway of the living room. 

 

“Um, Mr. Pines? How much have you drank today?” Soos was worried about his boss. He knew he drank but he’s never seen him like this before. 

 

“Not- *hick* not enough, kid. Now, let's watch-watch some movies.” Stan tried moving his feet but they didn't want to cooperate. 

 

“You sure you’re not going to throw up again? You still don’t look very good. Maybe you should drink some water.” Soos was desperately trying to help Stan into the living room but even at thirteen he was no match for Stan’s muscular middle-aged frame, being more of a crutch than full support. 

 

“I told ya, I’m fine. Just gotta...gotta sit on the couch.” Stan tripped over his pant-leg and tumbled gracelessly to the living room carpet. “Here’s fine, too.”    

 

“Mr. Pines…” Soos knew he sounded like a little kid but Stan was really scaring him. 

 

Stan looked up at Soos from his spot on the living room floor. The kid looked terrified. Well fucking duhh. He just watched his shit-faced wasted boss puking in his kitchen sink. He’d be scared too. God, he hoped he hadn’t caused the kid any long-term mental damage. Just another notch in the ‘Things Stan Pines Fucked Up’ belt. 

 

“Hey, kid. Come-mer.” He held his arms out in front of him, welcoming the boy into his lap. He knew he fucked up and he hated seeing the kid upset.

 

“Um, not until you take off your suit jacket and dress shirt. They’re covered in throw-up.” Soos knelt down beside his boss and helped him with the buttons of his shirt when his fingers stopped working all together. When he was stripped down to his undershirt, Soos sat down next to him, allowing Stan to wrap his arms around his chubby body, leaning into him despite the fear of being puked on. Stan really didn’t seem ok. 

 

Stan tried reaching for the bottle he had brought with him when Soos pulled it out of his hand and placed it on the coffee table. “I don’t think you should drink anymore for a little while, Mr. Pines. I can barely understand what you’re saying.”

 

“Aww, come’on kid. Don’t do that.” Stan tried sitting up but collapsed on his side, body falling halfway over Soos. 

 

“Actually, I think I might go dump it out.” He made to get up when Stan’s hand grabbed at his pants. 

 

“Don’t *hick* don’t do that. Not n‘less you want me ta eatta bullet, kid.” Stan couldn’t look Soos in the eye. Why the fuck did he say that. Did he say it or was he just thinking he said it? He looked at the teen staring at him through cloudy eyes. Fuck, he said that. 

 

“What-what are you talking about, Mr. Pines?” Shit, the kid looked like he was about to cry. Goddamnit, Stan. Come on, do what you do best. Make it a joke. 

 

“Heh, pretty hard to load a Remington when ya can’t see straight.” He chuckled dryly, glancing up and hoping it worked. A tear was rolling down Soos’s face and Stan felt his throat tighten. He’d made the kid fucking cry. He hasn’t even been here ten minutes and he made him cry. Why the hell was he crying? It’s not like Stan was worth anything to him, he was just his boss. Just his asshole boss who paid him too little and criticized him and yeah maybe sometimes he took him along when he went on drives or to the arcade if he’d got something right without his help. Sure, he liked the kid. Ok, so maybe he really liked the kid and seeing him crying over his pathetic ass was fucking annoying. Stan felt anger bubbling in his chest and he had no control of his mouth.

 

“Don’t fuckin’ cry. It’s not that big of’a deal. You’d find another job, fine.” Stan rolled onto his elbows, head resting on Soos’s knee. He was too tired to keep it up. 

 

“You...you shouldn’t talk like that. I like it here. I like you.” His voice was shaking as he tried to control his breathing, not allowing himself to cry for real in front of a tough guy like Stan. He was a man, not a little kid. Stan told him so. 

 

“Shit, kid. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean ta scare ya.” He felt like shit. His body was numb and he felt like he was being pulled underwater, his mind was going places he drank so much to try and numb out. Obviously he hadn’t done a good enough job today.

 

Something broke in his chest when he listened to his young handyman’s voice cracking as he tried to hold back tears. Tears for him. Tears he didn’t fucking deserve. He was a piece of garbage and the world would be so much better off without him clouding the air with his toxic presence. Nothing he did was ever going to change the person he was. Fuck, the person he is. No one ever cared about him and no one should. This kid had no idea who he was looking up to. Stan Pines was a monster and soon Soos would realize it and leave him. Just like everyone left him. The way it should be. No one who stayed came out of it unscathed, if they came out at all. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried shaking the thought from his mind.

 

“Mr. Pines?” Soos shifted his body when Stan moved to lay his head in his lap. He was starting to blank out, his tongue becoming thick in his mouth and laying on this kid seemed like the right thing to do. Apparently he made the right choice, humming when he felt a warm hand running through his greying brown hair. Why was he letting this happen? He should be laying on this floor alone and cold. Maybe he would get lucky and Soos would get tired of him and go home then he could lay here and hope he passed out and drowned in his own puke. 

 

“Kid? Why are you here?” His words were slurring more and more as the seconds ticked on.

 

“I want to be here with you, Mr. Pines.” 

 

“Why aren’t ya with your family?” Stan’s heart seemed to beat harder in his chest thinking about the kid missing his family Christmas to spend it with a fucking criminal burn-out who couldn’t keep a single member of his own. He could feel the tears burning the edges of his eyes and squeezed them even harder, sucking in air to try and fend off the growing lump in his throat. He was too emotional for his own good and it only got worse when he drank.

 

“I told you. I don’t really have any.” He looked away from his boss and his voice softened, embarrassed at his next sentence. “I kinda think of you as my family. I kinda, you know. Love you.” 

 

The words hit him like a kick in the nuts. The tears that escaped his eyes, the thick sob racking his body and he subconsciously grasped Soos’s pant leg even harder as he curled his body in on himself. His family. He thought of him as his family. The kid had no one there for him and now he wanted Stan to be there. What made him feel the sickest was how much he wanted to be there. He was so lonely, spending every day of his life working to get back the only other person who ever loved him when he didn’t deserve an ounce of it. Why couldn’t he have his family back? Why couldn’t he have Ford back? Anything. He’d give up fucking anything to take back that night. The night in the gym, the night in the lab, he didn’t give a fuck which he just wanted Ford back. Why wasn’t it him? It should have been him. 

 

“N-no, Soos. No y-you don’t. Please d-don’t love me. Please, don’t. Please don’t g-go.” He couldn’t think anymore, everything blurring together and Soos pulled him closer into his lap. He didn’t want him to leave, but he had to. He had to go. It all hit him so fast.

 

“I’m not going, Mr. Pines.” He had no idea what to do. Stan was...crying. Like, really crying. “Come here.”

 

“O-Ok.” He followed like a small child, obeying without question. “I-I can’t- can’t...love anyone ag- again.” Mr. Pines tears were beginning to stain his pants but he didn’t care. All he cared about was why he was crying. He was so scared but he couldn’t do anything but hold him in his lap. Even if he wanted to get up, he couldn’t with him clutching so hard to his leg. Like if he let go Soos was going to disappear. “Don’t love me.”

 

“Mr. Pines? Why are you so sad?” There was something very wrong.

 

“Soos, buddy, please don’t love me. Don’t even like me.” He didn’t want to hurt the kid when he was gone. He couldn’t keep this up much longer. Maybe when he’s dead, Stanford will be there waiting.

 

“I, I can’t help it. You’re the only one who really, you know. Is here.” 

 

“Can’t *hick* can’t love me, kid. No one c-can. People who love me get h-hurt. They get hurt... Oh, God, I want him back. Why won’t he c-come b-back? My fault. S’all my f-fault. Fuck, it h-hurts so bad. Ple-ee-ase come ba-ck.” He smashed his face into Soos’s thigh, soaking the cloth with tears and spit. “I-I l-love you, so mu-much. I’m so sorry. I’m so-o-rry, Ford. Oh, fuu-uc-k.”

 

Ford? Who was Ford? Why did he leave Mr. Pines? Why was he so upset about it? “Who is Ford?” 

 

“Mi-ine. He was mine. He-he...I need h-him. I can’t-*hick* can’t live with-without him anymore. It hurts to-to breath. It hurts so much. It’s all my fault.” 

 

“I’m really confused. Where is he?” Did he leave Mr. Pines like his dad left him? Was he like, Mr. Pines kid? 

 

“I-lost him. So long. I’ve t-tried, so long. I ca-an’t keep this up. Stanford, ple-e-ase. I need you home. I want to die. Please, Soos. Please, let m-me go. If you love me, give me the b-bottle.” Stanford’s face flooded his field of vision. The portal lighting up. The glowing blue as he was sucked in. ‘ _ Stanley! Stanley, do something!’  _ He couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything but watch everything he ever was being ripped away from him. He shuttered at the memory of the fear holding him in place. He was so fucking scared. 

 

“No. It’s ok. I promise, it’s ok.” Soos had no idea what was going on. He winced when Stan pressed his body even closer, knees curled around Soos’s back, wrapping himself around the sitting boy. Stan whined and continued to shake through his quiet sobs. That’s when Soos felt something hot spreading on his hip. Something hot and wet. His breathing froze and he looked down where, sure enough, a dark patch was rapidly spreading on the front of Stan’s black suit pants. 

 

“Mr. Pines…” He stuttered out, really not sure what to do now. This was so messed up. 

 

“I-I’m s-sorry.” He didn’t care anymore. His pride was gone and he just wanted to get closer to Soos. Soos said he loved him. Ford loved him. A long time ago. God he was such a fucking loser. “I’m disgusting. I’m a h-horrible person,Soos. You need to-to leave. Please, please leave bef-fore I ruin you, too.” 

 

“You’re not disgusting or horrible. It happens to me sometimes, too.” It was totally ok that he peed his pants. Mr. Pines was really drunk and he knew that happened sometimes. 

 

“Oh- god. Please hate me. Hate me so I have nothing left to h-hold me back. I hate my-myself so fucking much. You have n-no idea who I am. I’ve killed people, Soos. I’ve let-let people fuck me so I could e-eat. I-I’ve done more drugs than years you’ve been alive.” He threw his arm across Soos’s lap. “You see these? I-I cut myself. Like-like a little bitch. I’m numb. I’m numb and e-empty and nothing. I let him go. I pushed him and let him g-go. I lost the other half of me. I’m nothing.” 

 

Soos stared at the raised scars on Stan’s arm and wrist. There were two really bad ones running up almost the same place on both arms. The criss-crosses he’d always assumed were from bar fights and just general work accidents. Stan hurt himself. He hurt himself because he had no one there to tell him not to. Because this Ford guy left him. Stan loved him so much. He said he was his other half. Something clicked in his head as the fresh wave of tears slid down his face, dripping onto Stan’s head. 

 

“Mr. Pines? Was Ford like, your boyfriend?” Soos didn’t really know much about Stan’s personal life.

 

“No. No Soos. He was my everything. He IS my everything. And now he could be de-dea *huugh*” Stan gaged at the thought. Soos quickly leaned behind him, grabbing the small wastebin next to the couch and push Stan’s head into it only seconds before he threw up yet again. Soos narrowed his eyes and fought back his own nausea while holding the trash can for his boss and rubbing a hand on his back. 

 

“It’s, it’s ok Mr. Pines. It’s ok. I don’t hate you. I’m not leaving.” Soos held tight to his boss, wincing at retching noises and the words still piercing his brain.  _ “He IS my everything.” _ Finally Stan had nothing left in his stomach but bile and Soos took the garbage can away. Grabbing his discarded dress shirt, Soos wiped the sweat and tears from Stan’s face. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Stan’s heart only broke more. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t. “Soos, I- you’re more than I deserve.” 

 

“No I’m not. I’m not really much of anything myself.” 

 

‘ _ Not much of anything?’ _ How could the kid think that? He was a fucking saint. He was perfect and good and everything Stan wasn’t. What would he be doing right now if the kid hadn’t decided to spend his Christmas day with him in this cruddy old shack? That fucking piece of shit dad of his made him think that, didn’t he? He had no idea what the fuck he ruined. That poor kid. No kid should be abandoned by their parents. He knew that for a damn fact. Especially not one who was so fucking innocent and loyal and just, good. 

 

“Soos, don’t you EVER say that again? You hear me? EVER. You are nothing short of fucking perfect. Your father has no idea what he’s missing out on. No idea. You deserve so much, kid. So much.” He had a revelation there on the living room floor. He was going to make up for Soos’s garbage father and maybe make up for today. Maybe give him a reason not to blow his brains out the moment the kid left.

 

“Mr. Pines, I don’t think-” Stan cut him off before he could finish.

 

“I’m gonna be your dad, Soos.” He shifted closer to the warm body, curling back around him and trying to warm the cold wet patch below his waist. 

 

“What?” He wasn’t sure if he had heard him right. 

 

“No woman ever wanted my kids and the only man I’d adopt one with is- isn’t here. I want to be your dad. I’m n-not gonna be very good but I’ll try.” 

 

Soos couldn’t really process what Stan had just said. Stan felt his eyelids growing heavy, the strain of everything he put his body through taking it’s toll. 

 

“I’m’an asshole, Soos. I’m always gonna be an asshole. But I love you, too. I’ll be here as long as you need me to be, even if it doesn’t seem like it.”

 

Soos couldn’t believe what he heard. Mr. Pines wanted to be his dad. He was going to have a dad. And it was going to be Mr. Pines. Even if he didn’t always show it. Mr. Pines might be ok, as long as he stayed around. Which wasn’t going to be hard. He couldn’t imagine his life without the Mystery Shack anymore. 

 

“I-Mr. Pines, I-” 

 

“Shut up, kid. Don’t argue. You’re perfect, alright. You stay with me. Who knows. You might run this place one day.” Stan held onto reality as long as he could, visions of his brother playing like a slideshow on the back of his eyelids. Maybe he’d get him back someday. They could be a family.

 

“I’ll stay, Mr. Pines. I’ll stay.” He ran his hand through his hair, again. His chest tightening at the soft hum that vibrated through his boss-dad’s chest.

 

“Merry Christmas, Soos.” Stan’s words slurred together in his last moments of consciousness.

 

“Happy Hanukkah, Mr. Pines.”  

  
  



End file.
